


truth of the earth

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Foxes, M/M, Scotland, Tharkay's mysterious estate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 19:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17269616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: Temeraire finds some fox eggs(?) and Laurence tries to determine why Tharkay is avoiding him.





	truth of the earth

**Author's Note:**

> Response to a tumblr prompt for accidental cat parents. This... is not that fic, but, er, I hope it's a good answer anyway

_"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed."  -_ Antoine de Saint  Exupery.

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever think of birds,” asks Laurence one day.

“Pardon?” Tharkay replies.

The man turns toward Laurence, who realizes belatedly that he's interrupted an intent inspection of the fields. Laurence glances that way himself. His untrained eye can't judge the field much, though he does not imagine the various dragon-tracks will increase grain yield. He wonders if Tharkay's tenants have complained. “That is, finding another bird such as the one you lost at the mountains.” Laurence thinks belatedly it may be unkind to mention the hawk – he suddenly remembers the poor dead creature, and Tharkay digging out her crumpled body after an avalanche in the mountains. “She made a strong impression when I met you, and you seemed fond of her.”

“Birds are simple creatures,” Tharkay says. If he is bothered by the reminder he does not show it. “Yes, I have thought of getting another. Falconry is even a respectable hobby; yet I am not sure it would be _responsible_. Having a hunting-partner was useful when I traversed halfway across the world, but I cannot drag a wild bird along to all the cities of England, and I am not home enough to care for one properly.”

This is true. In the roughly eight months since they settled in Scotland Laurence has come to accept Tharkay's habit of absconding without warning, a habit that he assumed would end with Tharkay's attainment of property and a sedentary life. Often the man gives some warning, but it is just as likely that he will vanish for two or three days without notice.

Laurence would like to offer his assistance, but Temeraire is just as apt to hare off to London on some arbitrary whim – sometimes insisting Laurence join him - and so he cannot promise his own presence at the house. As Tharkay well knows.

“And can you imagine Temeraire's reaction,” Tharkay adds in a murmur. “He still gets jealous of the horses, you know.”

Laurence laughs. Temeraire expressed a great distaste for Tharkay's well-mannered mare when they moved in. Laurence finds the horse quite impressive – especially since she utterly ignores Temeraire's scent through some providence Tharkay has yet to explain – but Temeraire always insists that he is _much_ faster than some horse, and far less likely to drop his riders, so really there is no need for Tharkay to own a steed at all, thank you.

“Ah,” Tharkay adds. “There he is now; but what is he carrying?”

Laurence presses a hand to his face, stifling a dismayed laugh as Temeraire lands in the already-disturbed field, for some reason favoring one leg. Perhaps he _should_ make inquiries about Tharkay's tenants, if it will not be considered interference. For the moment, though, Temeraire's delight distracts him. “Laurence! Tharkay! Oh, come look; I do not know what to do with them, but I have found fox eggs!”

“...Fox _eggs?”_ Laurence repeats.

“That is quite the discovery,” says Tharkay dryly. Laurence shoots him an exasperated look and steps forward.

Temeraire is proud to display his forehand, talons curved awkwardly to cradle a crying heap of fur. Three foxes, indeed, that look barely weeks old. “The mother was dead,” Temeraire explains. “But it seems not at all proper to just leave them.”

“You have eaten foxes before,” Laurence points out, because he would have guessed Temeraire to make a quick snack of the kits.

“I do not smash eggs,” Temeraire says, ruff bristling. “And they do not properly walk yet, so I think they are still more like eggs than not.”

“Oh dear,” Laurence says. He has a sudden suspicion about Temeraire's intentions, but when he glances around for help Tharkay has a faint grin playing at his lips. He evidently has no plans to intervene.

“Anyway I thought you could take care of the foxes until they can hunt,” Temeraire confirms his fears. “...Except the albino one, perhaps. If Lien is any indication she _is_ unlucky, just as the Chinese believe; but perhaps we can just release her a little early?”

Startled, Laurence looks again. The kits are curled together so closely they are hard to differentiate, but one of them is indeed a real albino – white furred with a pink snout and feet, and reddish eyes under half-closed lids. Another of the foxes, by stark contrast, is inky black. The last at least boasts the normal reddish-brown coat that Laurence would expect.

“That is unkind,” Tharkay reproves. His amusement fades. “You should not judge other creatures poorly only because they might share some outward qualities with your enemies. Imagine if the British judged all Celestials on the basis of Lien's actions.”

“Oh! Well, that would be quite different,” says Temeraire guiltily. “But I understand.”

He still eyes the albino a little suspiciously, though.

Sighing, Laurence concedes to the inevitable. He must at least make a token protest, though. “You understand that we do not know how to care for them?”

“Actually I do,” says Tharkay unexpectedly. “I had an occasion to care for foxes shortly after I left my father's house.”

Temeraire is delighted. Laurence is confused. “What is an 'occasion' to care for foxes?” he wonders.

Tharkay will not say, but he assures Laurence that it was “an even more disreputable set of affairs than you might imagine.”

Which is true, considering Laurence cannot imagine any circumstances that would require his friend to raise wild animals. Then again, he's still never asked how Tharkay came to befriend feral dragons.

“Well,” he says at last. “What would you suggest?”

* * *

  
Temeraire names the kits Victory, Reliant, and Jiao Ru.

It is possible that Laurence has given him a few misapprehensions about proper naming-conventions.

Tharkay insists on feeding the foxes sugar-water before anything else, a combination that Laurence cannot find natural. He then pronounces them capable of taking meat, though first instructing one of Temeraire's servants to find goat-milk. The meat is shredded and soaked before Laurence sets himself to feeding the foxes.

They must be fed, Tharkay supplies helpfully, every three to four hours.

This so exasperates Laurence that he almost tells Temeraire to eat the poor creatures and be done. But the foxes show no innate fear of Temeraire, bumbling around his talons with confused whines that only seem to delight the dragon. Laurence does not have the heart to reject them.

So he feeds the foxes.

“I have never considered you a particularly maternal person,” says Tharkay thoughtfully. He watches, completely unhelpful, as the black fox – Reliant - wriggles and launches itself at Laurence, stumbling and quite upending his dish of milk and raw meat. “ - Perhaps for a reason.”

Flicking milk off his sleeve, Laurence chooses to ignore his friend's mirth. “I once planned on having several children,” he says. “Though I confess, I cannot imagine it now.”

“You do not need children,” Temeraire agrees. “You have me.”

Laurence eyes Tharkay darkly when the man stifles a laugh, evidently on the verge of commenting. But Tharkay must have some discretion left in him. The man only offers Laurence an amused look and reaches out to stroke the albino fox, Jiao Ru.

The last fox, the reddish creature called Victory, tries to savage Laurence's finger when he moves to feed.

Clearly, they are not going to make this easy.

* * *

 

Over their months of cohabitation Laurence and Tharkay have formed a number of habits, some separate and some together. One pleasant routine is that they frequently begin the days with a quiet game of chess in the sunroom, a large and open room at the back of the house that gives them a good view of Temeraire's Pavilion. After Temeraire wakes they leave to breakfast together outside, and then usually go their separate ways: Temeraire to visit other politicians or make arrangements for his work, Tharkay for his unspecified business in town, and Laurence...

Well. Laurence finds a great many ways to occupy his time, none of which are completely satisfying.

But where Laurence's company was not a sufficient attraction, preoccupation with the foxes causes Tharkay to spend more time around the estate. Together they build a hasty enclosure – one close to Temeraire's Pavilion, though not _too_ close, since the Celestial has finally noticed the foxes' smells.

Temeraire takes great joy in shepherding the creatures as Tharkay and Laurence dig a shallow perimeter, well aware of a fox's tendency to dig. As they work they hear Temeraire talking sternly to the creatures, “No, no, you _cannot_ bite your sister, Reliant, and anyway your teeth and still useless - “

“I think perhaps it is a good thing that dragons do not rear their young,” Tharkay muses, and Laurence has to smile.

The enclosure takes three days to erect. After this is done they watch for awhile as the tiny animals teeter around their new yard on uncertain legs. But Laurence's mind is far away. He has become fond of the hours spent with Tharkay, and furthermore he is guiltily aware of his own greediness. They speak together almost every morning - surely he cannot expect more than that.

Yet something compels him to speak. Inside the enclosure Laurence lets Jiao Ru clamber over his shoulders and watches Tharkay pick up the red fox, who has proven most aggressive. “I hope we have not kept you from anything important,” Laurence offers. “I expect that when you offered us a home you did not expect to house wild animals as well.”

“I _have_ traveled with you both – suffice to say I am not surprised.”

“But surely we have kept you from your business in the town,” Laurence persists.

Tharkay studies the fox.

“...I have no business in town,” he says finally.

“And yet you are rarely at home,” Laurence says, “or else I expect we would see much more of you.”

Perhaps that is too much. But Tharkay's expression does not change; he only shrugs, saying, “Familiarity breeds contempt.” It is precisely the sort of flippant, cynical answer Laurence would expect from him. But something about the statement seems strange. He frowns, and Tharkay busies himself prodding at Victory, who immediately starts gnawing his hand and growling pathetically.

“I do not think I could grow weary of your company if we spent a thousand years together,” says Laurence. Tharkay stills. “But the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable in your own house. If you do not want us here, Tenzing - “

“That is not what I meant,” snaps Tharkay. He sets down the startled fox and stands. “Excuse me; I will say my farewells to Temeraire. It is late.”

Laurence does not protest.

At first he wonders if he has erred, but he notices, in the upcoming weeks, that Tharkay rarely leaves the estate – and, more, that he always warns Laurence before he does.

Perhaps it was rude of him to speak, but Laurence cannot be sorry for the change.

* * *

 

“Oh, they are adorable!” Emily exclaims. She cradles the albino, Jiao Ru, to her chest. “Especially this dear.”

Above her head Temeraire sulks. “Perhaps we can go for a swim,” he hints, nudging his favorite scale-scrubber. But Emily ignores him to scratch Jiao Ru's head; the fox kit headbutts her arm.

Emily Roland is taking a brief leave – because she is _pregnant,_ she explains, and accepts Tharkay's congratulations without noticing the way Laurence pales. Or perhaps she just doesn't care. “It's Demane's, of course,” she says briskly. Laurence automatically checks her hand and does not see a ring. “We discussed it; a girl will go serve for Excidium, and a boy for Kuilingile. Everything is fairly quiet now, so mum said it would be a good time. She may be retiring soon, you know, and I'd hate to be grounded after becoming captain.”

“Sensible,” says Tharkay, while Laurence desperately counts the years and realizes with numb shock that Emily is _twenty-one,_ and when did that happen?

“But surely Excidium will not leave Roland just because she retires,” says Temeraire.

“No, of course not. Normally she'd serve until she died, I suppose, but things are easier for dragons now. Excidium said he'd be happy serving with me as long as he can visit mother. They'll probably post us fairly close so he can visit, at least the first few years. It will be hard on them both but hopefully she won't retire for awhile yet.”

“And Excidium has served with two other captains,” Tharkay reminds Temeraire while Laurence starts to calculate how old Jane would have been at Emily's birth, then forcibly stops himself, blushing. “These are happier circumstances than he would have any reason to expect.”

“Still, I do not think I could bear to be away from Laurence so long,” Temeraire says. “Sometimes it is hard just to be away for a night or two when I visit other dragons. What an awful arrangement!”

Emily shrugs and scoops up Jiao Ru, kissing the fox's pale head. The animal wags its tail in a doggish fashion. “He seems happy enough,” she says, and leaves it at that. “Are you going to be breeding foxes now, Mr. Tharkay? Or hunting with them?”

“Indeed no,” Tharkay says. They have both requested Emily use their first names, but despite her blunt manner this is apparently too much to ask. “I expect both endeavors would be doomed to failure – though probably entertaining. Temeraire found them and wanted to help.”

“Ah,” says Emily, as though this explains everything. And, well, it rather does.

“...You know,” says Temeraire, “You could always rejoin my crew and leave Excidium to Jane.”

Emily hugs the albino fox to her chest. She sounds gentle when she says, “That's a kind offer; but, well, I love Excidium very much. And I do not think it would be fair to make him second to anyone.”

“Oh,” says Temeraire, disappointed. For some reason Laurence looks at Tharkay, but the man only seems sympathetic, reaching out to pat Temeraire's side with a consolatory murmur. The dragon nudges him automatically, fond and proprietary, and Laurence smiles a little at the sight. When he turns back Emily is watching him.

Emily pats Jiao Ru one final time and sets her down. “Can you show me to the necessary, Mr. Laurence? The baby stands on my bladder something awful.”

* * *

 

Three days later Laurence wakes all at once. He lays in bed as seconds stretch past, wondering why his heart beats so furiously. Then he hears one crash, another, and a series of thuds.

Laurence stands and rifles through the old sea-chest at the foot of his bed. There are numerous items – navy correspondences, uniforms, and the unwanted medal he received at the end of the war – which are swiftly thrust aside. He retrieves his sword and pistol, readies the later, and bearing both hurries into the hall.

The lamps have already been doused, but Laurence has decent night-vision. He proceeds slowly at first, letting his eyes adjust. When he turns into the next hall a flurry of movement makes his raise his gun – but it is only Tharkay, at the opposite end of the corridor, also armed.

They exchange glances and wordlessly continue together.

Examination of the sun-room shows a turned over table. Chess pieces are strewn all over the floor, some of the delicate glass cracked. Strange noise come from further down the hall in the direction of the kitchen.

But Tharkay does not move immediately to investigate the noise. He pauses in the sun-room, staring at the chess pieces; and then, rolling his eyes, he sighs and puts his gun on the floor.

“Tenzing?” Laurence asks. But Tharkay just shakes his head, moving with sudden confidence toward the kitchen. Alarmed, Laurence follows.

Tharkay throws open the kitchen doors without any of the hesitance that might be expected against an intruder. Following him Laurence is momentarily alarmed by the sight of overturned bags, apples covering the floor, and a streak of blood that he belatedly realizes is from a long cut of meat that has been dragged to the floor. Tharkay stands above this last with his arms crossed.

Then Laurence notices Reliant, his inky-black coat hiding the fox well. Two luminescent eyes blink at Laurence, all-innocence.

Laurence lowers his weapons. “What a fearsome intruder,” Tharkay sighs, bending to lift the fox. Growling, Reliant carries the hunk of beef with him and drips blood all over Tharkay. “Can you start setting the room straight? We will give the cooks aneurysms if they return to this.”

Laurence has the room mostly restored by the time Tharkay returns. “Evidently we ought to watch them better,” Tharkay says. “I thought you were going to shoot me, Will, when I saw you tonight.”

“A poor guest I would be to shoot my host.”

“You are not a guest, and I wish you would stop saying so,” Tharkay says. “But as housemates go I would still lay claim to worse. Will you sit with me awhile? I do not think I will be able to sleep again.”

Laurence agrees. He leaves to light some candles in the hallway and the sun-room, where Tharkay soon brings tea. They re-settle the table and find all the chess pieces, then sit drinking and watching the stars through the windows. It must be two or three in the morning.

For awhile Laurence thinks they will sit in silence. The night feels like a strange dream, a familiar dream; if Tharkay turned, asking if he wanted to return to Australia and live among the sea-serpents, he might well agree. The black sky and candle-lit room give the place a feeling of a fairy-tale, a moment where anything can happen.

And then Tharkay breaks the quiet. “I first killed a man when I was fifteen, you know.”

Laurence somehow is not surprised by this topic. He tries to remember, but he cannot recall how old he was when he first killed. Thirteen, or fourteen perhaps. A stray gunshot that was a half-accident. At another time he might be ashamed of forgetting such details. Now he just listens.

“I suppose I should have been horrified,” Tharkay says slowly. He holds a sugar-spoon, now circling it carefully through his tea. Not stirring, but contemplating the action as an excuse to avoid looking at Laurence. “I was not. The man was a petty thief, a robber who broke into this house. I stumbled over him looking for cakes at night, and I stabbed him with a kitchen-knife. I am not sure I would have felt guilty for it at all, except that my father came. He gave me such a look...” Tharkay pauses.

The silence stretches.

Laurence thinks of the dark kitchen, the sword in his trunk. He reached for it without even wondering why there would be danger in this house, without wondering if the noises might be innocent. He woke up and remembered death. Even in this quiet, with the night stretching above them, the notion of safety seems queer. Laurence wonders suddenly where he would be without Tharkay's offer after the war – if he would be fighting, still, without a path toward anything else.

Tharkay shoves his tea away and starts to rise. Laurence leans over the table and grabs his hand.

They stand there for a moment, frozen. Laurence has a thousand things he thinks to say: _It was not your fault_ , and _I was only afraid until I realized you were fine_ , and _why should we have to forget, why should we pretend..._

“Drink your tea,” he says.

Tharkay sits. They drink tea and play chess until the sun rises, and then they move outside to greet Temeraire as nightmares give room for the day.

* * *

  
“Fetch,” says Tharkay. He throws a soft wad of leather. Victory runs, pounces on the ball with an exaggerated leap, and then rolls around tearing at it for a minute. Mouth dripping with saliva, Victory gags when he tries to eat the ball. Tharkay, sighing, has to walk over and pry it from the kit's jaws.

Jiao Ru is the only fox that has proven to be tractable. Her brothers quarrel endlessly to the point that Tharkay announced them both 'unteachable' until Laurence teasingly accused him of being ill-equipped to train animals. That made Tharkay double down out of pure stubbornness, but still he has not succeeded in training them to obey the most simple commands.

“Hawks are easier,” Tharkay grumbles. “And hawks are the idiotic creatures I have ever met.”

Laurence is surprised. “I thought you quite liked birds.”

“I do,” Tharkay says. “They are beautiful, fierce, and uncompromising. And they are idiots. These foxes are worse.”

Jiao Ru sits prettily at Laurence's feet, her tail curved around his legs. Tharkay shoots the albino an accusing glare as though blaming her for possessing all the grace her brothers lack.

Reliant, apparently growing bored of watching the excitement, turns and bites Laurence on the leg.

Laurence yelps. It is more from surprise than pain, but the bite _does_ hurt. The kits are five months old now, and when Laurence kicks his leg – sending Jiao Ru bolting – Reliant hangs on with a surprising savagery. Tharkay leaps forward and boots away the fox, though Reliant seems fine when he slinks away.

They abandon the foxes to the enclosure and head inside for bandages.

“I am glad Temeraire is gone today,” Laurence says as Tharkay wraps his leg. Blood oozes down his ankle and drips onto the floor. Laurence is actually briefly startled that he has never been injured in the house before today, and then exasperated with himself for finding it noteworthy. “He would fuss without end.”

“And I daresay he would have killed the foxes,” Tharkay adds. Checking Laurence's leg one more time, he rests a hand on his arm. “I know they are only animals, and do not know better, but in truth I would not have blamed him.”

They wait a moment in strange tableau, Tharkay half-kneeling on the ground. Laurence wants to say something. He has wanted to say something for weeks – months – years.

But this is not the moment. Tharkay rises.

“You know what we need to tell Temeraire,” he says. Laurence nods.

* * *

 

“I do not see why everyone must be taken away just when I grow fond of them,” Temeraire says. “It is quite like a conspiracy. Surely they can be trained?”

“Familiarity breeds contempt,” Tharkay notes. “Truly I am only surprised they did not turn aggressive sooner. These are wild animals, Temeraire, not domesticated.”

“What is the difference?”

“Cows and horses and cats have been bred to be peaceable,” Laurence says. “It is believed that a gentle nature may be passed through animals just as fur-color or size is bred.” He does not say, though it occurs to him, that a similar sort of focused breeding may account for the difference between the temperaments of feral and harnessed dragons. “Because their ancestors lived without humans, the foxes are not accustomed to companionship. It is simply their nature.”

“They all seemed perfectly happy a few weeks ago.”

“All creatures are amiable as infants,” Tharkay says. “I have known many a man in the East who sought to tame predators for sport. Someone might live with a tiger or lion for fifty years without issue, and sometimes the lion will turn one day and bite away their friend's head. There is no predicting such creatures, except that they cannot _be_ predicted.”

“ _I_ am very predictable,” Temeraire says, though what point he means to make by this is unclear.

And anyway Tharkay answers, “The entirety of England, France, and Russia might disagree.”

Temeraire sulks and hunches over Jiao Ru. “But surely _she_ will not leave?” he asks. The albino fox busies herself trying to dig under Temeraire's forehand, apparently oblivious to his looming head. “Surely it would be nicer to be here, with friends, than wandering the country with no good purpose.”

Tharkay says nothing for a moment. “Perhaps she does not think herself welcome,” says Laurence, though he knows not where the words come from, nor the odd notion.

“Perhaps she thinks herself fitted to different company,” Tharkay says, and they consider each other.

Temeraire scoffs. “I am here, and you both are here; what other company could compare?”

“None at all,” says Laurence, and without a word Tharkay turns and walks back to the house.

* * *

 

Despite their expectations Jiao Ru remains pleasant and amiable. Amiable enough, even, that Tharkay relents and allows her freedom of the house. It takes some training and a few mishaps – convincing a fox to take its water outside is not a pleasant experience for anyone – but there is something very comforting to sit in the reading-room with her curled on the lap, nose snuffling at the books. Or to hear a distant creaking in the house, and dismiss it fondly as the playful cavorting of a pet, rather than an intruder imagined by paranoia and bad experiences.

But upon mutual agreement Reliant and Victory are released at the border of the estate grounds. Temeraire makes upset noises and tells the foxes that they can return anytime; they don't seem to notice. Watching the foxes gambol away, Laurence turns to Tharkay. “Does it get easier,” he wonders aloud, “To watch the things you love walk away?”

“I am fortunate to have no experience in that,” Tharkay says. “Not really. I realized over time that many of the people I cared for were not worth the effort. Those most dear to me have never left – at least, not yet.”

He says nothing more. And Laurence thinks, _oh._

All at once, everything becomes clear.

* * *

 

On Sunday Tharkay announces that he is walking to town. He does not provide a reason and Laurence does not ask. He does, however, explain that he wants to pick up a few books for Temeraire.

“I can retrieve them for you,” Tharkay says.

“I would prefer to look around,” Laurence replies, and Tharkay has no choice but to accept his company.

These days Laurence tends to fly from one place to another. The walk seems strangely long, but invigorating. Perhaps it helps give him the courage he has lacked these many months.

They are alone on the path when Laurence touches Tharkay's arm, halting. Tharkay does not seem surprised, but instead resigned – wary.

“I beg you to tell me the truth, Tenzing,” says Laurence. “You have expected us to leave.”

And Tharkay says, “Yes.”

“But you do not want us to leave.”

“I do not.”

Laurence nods. He wonders, for the briefest instance, if he is wrong – if it would be better to step back, continue toward the town, and let things remain as they are.

He kisses Tharkay instead.

When he moves away Tharkay stares at him. His eyes remind Laurence of that night in the sun-room, when he sat solemn and still under starlight.

“We do not intend to leave,” Laurence says, and at last Tharkay smiles.

* * *

 

“I suppose I am glad she stayed,” says Temeraire, feigning indifference. He is plainly pleased. Jiao Ru nips cheerily at his talon, and the dragon heaves a sigh. “...But if only one of them could stay, why could it not be one of the foxes that were a little more sensible?”

“Perhaps _because_ they are sensible,” Tharkay responds. “But that is quite alright. I have long suspected that normalcy is overrated.”

“And only think,” Laurence says. “She plainly loves you; surely that is the most important thing of all.”

 


End file.
